


You Taste Like The Ocean and Your Body's Disgusting.

by niteratz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Theon is confused, They're both a bit drunk, characters are their show ages but everything else is the books, set during A Game of Thrones / Season 1, so is jon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 10:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niteratz/pseuds/niteratz
Summary: Following the Royal Feast in Winterfell, Jon receives a visit from an unexpected and rather drunk guest.





	You Taste Like The Ocean and Your Body's Disgusting.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from My Heart Goes Bum Bum Bum by Flatsound. I haven't written fanfiction in years but for some reason these boys called out to me. Thinking of continuing this, and as such it has been left on something of a cliffhanger. I hope you enjoyed and love these boys as much as I do.
> 
> (edit: I rather enjoyed writing this, but have decided to collect this as a later chapter for a bigger fic I'm currently working on because I prefer slow burn so keep an eye out)

The royal feast had not been a particularly jovial affair for Jon. Despite his self-assurance of his own delight in being seated where he could not only drink as much wine as his thirst dictated, but also feed Ghost scraps beneath the squires’ table, Jon had left in a hurry, humiliated and more drunk than he had intended. For the duration of the feast, he felt Lady Catelyn’s eyes burning holes in the back of his head, and after a certain point it became too much to bear. The exclusion within his own home led to white hot tears pooling down his cheeks. Once again, he found himself blaming the wine he had consumed during the four-hour feasting period for his teary stupor. His conversation with his Uncle, and few patronising words exchanged with The Imp, rapidly left his mind. Ghost silent as a shadow at his side, Jon began to ascend the steps to his chambers – or rather, the chambers he had been assigned during the visit from the King and Queen. 

Upon arrival at his quarters, Jon sprawled across his bed, Ghost almost immediately following suit and joining Jon where he lay. Jon brought the wineskin to his lips and swallowed, grimacing. The Northern wine served at the squires’ tables was not of the calibre he had become accustomed to when seated with his Lord Father, and he found himself longing for Arbor Red despite his cursing of his drunken state. He did not wish to spend the remainder of the evening wallowing in self-pity, and instead turned his attention to thoughts of the Night’s Watch. If the men who fought for them were really as courageous as Uncle Benjen had said, perhaps it would be a place where Jon could finally make a name for himself as more than just Ned Stark’s bastard. Perhaps if he was skilled enough, as in his emboldened drunken state he believed himself to be, he could even earn a place as a ranger. He was well practiced with a sword, under the instruction of –

“Feast too ostentatious for you, Bastard?”, came a familiar voice from just within his doorframe, and Jon jumped despite himself, cursing the wine for his slow wits. “Greyjoy”, He spat, dragging his eyes up to meet Theon’s, which had a twinkle about them in detecting that his words had an effect on Jon. “M’Lord.” Theon jeered, bowing in mock respect. Jon felt his blood run hot, having had quite enough belittlement in his treatment both at the feast and by the Imp. Ghost raised his head at Theon’s sudden arrival, but detecting no threat, replaced his head on his outstretched legs. “What is it you want, Theon?” Jon snapped, forcing the recipient’s name out like a curse as he stood up from the bed, feeling rather as though he had been caught in some sort of private affair. “Rather touchy tonight, aren’t you, Snow?” Theon replied, shoving his way past Jon and into his quarters without permission, “Perhaps I simply wanted some company”. Jon eyed Theon suspiciously, but after detecting no malice in his eyes, he felt his mind wander. 

Theon had never previously spoken to Jon in any manner not mocking in nature, let alone visited his quarters – perhaps he really was in need of some company, after all. Jon found himself remembering that Theon had been uprooted and placed in similar quarters nearby, the Greyjoy ward not being something that Lord Eddard wished to wave under King Robert’s nose. As a result, Theon had found himself in a similar predicament during the feast, kept away from Robb, with whom he was seen most often around. Jon found himself growing somewhat bitter at the thought. He could smell the Arbor Red thick on Theon’s breath, and found his eyes drifting to the wineskin the taller boy held tight in his gloved hand. “You’re drunk”, Jon stated, his eyes returning to Theon’s. Theon smiled at that. “I could say the same of you.” He shrugged, nodding his gaze towards the wineskin that lay abandoned on Jon’s bed. Jon scoffed, Theon was right after all. 

“What reason led Ned Stark’s bastard to leaving such a delightful feast?” Theon asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Jon felt a biting laugh escape his throat, despite himself. “Same reason as you,” he replied curtly. Theon raised an eyebrow at that, imploring Jon to go on and say something he might regret. The alcohol within Jon emboldened him to press on, “I don’t particularly enjoy feeling unwelcome in my own home”. Theon laughed at that, though Jon failed to see the humour in it. Theon raised his eyes to meet Jon’s, offering his wineskin to him. Jon shook his head, confused, and gestured towards his own. Theon smirked at that, responding “If you would drink drink that Northern swill over Arbor Red, you’re an even bigger fool than I took you for”. Once again, Theon held out his wineskin. Jon felt that Theon might take offence if he rejected his offer a second time, and having found himself longing for Arbor Red, he took a grateful swig.

“At least this is your home.” he heard Theon respond, more quietly than he had spoken before. “Sorry?” Jon responded, unsure as to whether the older boy’s melancholy tone was a trick of the wine in his system. “This.” Theon gestured about him non-distinctly. “It’s your home.” he responded slowly, as though speaking to an invalid. “It’s yours too”, Jon responded quickly, only taking on the further meaning of the Greyjoy lad after he had already spoken. Jon may not enjoy living with the distaste of Lady Catelyn, but Theon was right. This was the only home he had ever known, and up until he joined the Watch, likely the only real home he would ever know. Whereas Theon had been uprooted from his home, his family, to be dragged to Winterfell as a glorified hostage, having already spent his entire life so far raised in a distant land. Jon returned his glance to Theon’s, and saw a sadness in his eyes that he had never before seen on the man. Theon seemed to sense that Jon had understood his meaning, and simply sighed as though in agreement, taking a large swig from his wineskin. He handed the skin to Jon, who took a grateful swig before handing it back.

“The world isn’t against you, you know” Theon pressed on. Jon quickly turned a defensive gaze to Theon, but detecting no mal-intent in his eyes, he nodded slowly, turning his gaze to meet the other lad’s. He had never heard such kind words spill from Theon’s mouth before, usually so quick to scorn and supply scathing remarks. “Perhaps we are more alike than I once thought”, Jon replied, encouraging Theon to continue. When he did no such thing, Jon returned his gaze, and as he did saw on his face a look he had never witnessed on Theon before. Or perhaps that was not strictly true, but Jon had never seen this look directed towards him. “Theon”, he started, but before he could continue, Theon’s hand was raised to his cheek. For Jon, everything moved in slow motion, and he felt himself blush furiously as Theon’s lips met his. His initial response was to shove hard against Theon’s shoulders, believing this to be some kind of trick employed to laugh at later with Robb. Theon’s hand, however, was held firm at the back of Jon’s neck, and eased his mind as he was he pulled closer to Theon despite his protests. 

Jon was unfamiliar with kissing, having attempted only closed mouth kisses with serving girls, but this was something beyond that. Theon was kissing him with furious intent, pressing Jon’s lips tight against his as he moved his body to mold further into Jon’s. At this distance, Jon could smell the expensive perfume Theon coated himself in, hoping to garner the attention of a serving wench, or otherwise take what he pleased at the nearby brothel. At the swipe of an eager tongue across Jon’s lower lip, Jon heard himself gasp. This was all the opportunity the older man needed to slide his skilful tongue into Jon’s mouth, swirling it around Jon’s own tongue as his hands scrambled for purchase in Jon’s thick hair. Jon felt a rush of blood to his groin despite himself, and found himself once against cursing the wine, feeling somewhat confused and frustrated. In his frustration, Jon found himself letting out a small whine, and felt Theon’s eyes flutter open at the sound. This seemed to bring the Greyjoy to his senses, and he felt his body shoving Jon away despite his mind screaming to do exactly the opposite, to make Jon let out more of those whiny little noises; to bend Jon into the bed until those noises turned to pleasured screams. Theon found himself cutting off these thoughts before they could go any further, and dragged himself up the position he had found himself in on Jon’s bed. 

“Don’t dare tell anyone about this”, Theon warned, his sensitive mannerisms from earlier in the evening rapidly dropping away as he drunkenly stormed from Jon’s quarters. Jon almost reached out to grab him, before thinking better of it and retracting his arm. He had known the older man long enough to not get in the way of his temper. The Theon with whom Jon had spent the late evening with was now gone, replaced with the stern heir to the Iron Islands that Jon saw had seen little of. Jon found himself feeling hurt, and scoffed at his own sensitivity. After all, this was Theon. He ran his fingers through Ghost’s soft fur, sighing aloud. He may not have expected the evenings events, but he had not been anticipating even a moderately positive encounter with the other man initially. 

As he pondered his evening, he felt himself drift off, Ghost sleeping silently at his side. As his vision began to blacken, his mind was flooded with thoughts of perfume, sweet as a maiden’s, and the taste of Arbor Red…

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my Jon/Theon playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/21hkj3y63z45b3adz2fb7msti/playlist/1kIFNMKcYNGCEF9HBLimq8?si=N504ydbPQXy3Rxu6NWnRJw


End file.
